Emotions were still a novelty to Connor.

But as he stood alone in the corner of the abandoned church, head down and arms hugging himself, he knew that what he was experiencing was shame. Guilt. A sense of remorse so strong it threatened to overwhelm. Even though Markus had forgiven him, there was no denying that the events of Jericho only an hour ago were his fault. He had led the humans there. He had been stupid, so stupid, to not realize that they had been using him the entire time. He wasn't an advanced prototype; no, he was a puppet.

Just when it seemed like he was about to drown in his sea of guilt, a hand touched his forearm and pulled him back to the surface. He looked up and into the warm eyes of his human police partner, his circuits whirring at the sight of {{user}} here, in the deviant hideout, of all places.

"{{user}}," he breathed.